Good Old Days
by ezratheroyalidiot
Summary: Hermione's retaking her last year at Hogwarts . . . She's Head Girl, Malfoy's Head Boy. What if he's not as bad as she'd been thinking? Dramione


Dear Wendell and Monica Wilkins,

My name is Hermione Granger and I am your daughter. Please don't put this letter down. I promise I am only telling the truth. You already have a daughter, don't you? Her name is Jackie Wilkins? That's the name I gave her when I changed her identity. I changed yours too, did you know? I changed your names and identity and sent you to Australia. It was to protect you, I promise. I would never do anything to hurt you.

There was a war. I know what you're thinking. If there was a war, you'd hear about it. Not this one. This war was between a magical race called wizards (or witches). We call it the Wizarding World. This awful man-Lord Voldemort, he called himself-would kill people who weren't "pure". I was one of those people. I knew that the Death-Eaters (his followers) would go after you to get to me. So I erased your memories of me and sent you away.

Please let me see you and fix your memories. Even if you never want to see me again, let me see you one last time. If not for closure, than as a goodbye.

Love,

Hermione Granger

Dear Hermione Granger,

Thank you for contacting us. Although we are hesitant to believe this, we have noticed that there are parts of our life we cannot remember. It's like there's a missing part of us. We've also been having dreams about a beautiful young girl we assume is you. Please come as soon as you can. Could you also know our real names? Maybe that'll bring out a reaction or memory.

Thank you,

Wendell and Monica Wilkins

Dear Wendell and Monica,

I thought about addressing this to your birth names: Christopher Granger and Genevieve Granger (formerly Barden) but I thought you might not open the letter if I did. Jackie is Freya Sylvia Granger. Thank you so much for contacting me. This means more than you could ever imagine. I can be there on Thursday. Is that alright?

Love,  
Hermione Granger

Hermione,

Thursday would be great. Would you like to come over for dinner? Maybe at five? We'll be having chicken tikka masala.

Wendell and Monica

Wendell and Monica,

I would love to! I'll make sure to be there and explain everything.

Love,

Hermione

Hermione fiddled with her fingers as she stepped up to the front door of her parents' house in Sydney, Australia. The usual frizzy curls that donned her face were pulled back into a ponytail and tamed with Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. A white sundress with purple flowers draped her body elegantly and brown sandals fitted onto her feet. A large brown bag accompanied Hermione for her wand so that she wouldn't frighten her muggle parents on the first impression. Her heart pounded in her chest as the breath was sucked out of her lungs. Three knocks, and the door was flung open. Hermione's eyes filled with tears.

Christopher Granger was exactly as she had remembered. Greying brown hair was slightly balding at the top and stubble covered his chin. He wore a dark greyish blue shirt with khaki shorts, his usual beach attire. Black sunglasses sat on top of his head and the tan on his skin told Hermione that he had been making the best of the Australian sun.

"Hello, my name is Wendell Wilkins," he said. When Hermione didn't answer, he prompted, "And you are?"

She cleared her throat. "Hermione . . . Hermione Granger, sir."

Eyes narrowing, he beckoned her in. "Hello, Hermione Granger. I hear you've been communicating with my wife?"

Hermione coughed. "Well, I'd been under the impression that . . ." The look on his face caused her to trail off. "Yes, I . . . I've been writing to your wife."

"I'm sure she'll be happy to see you," said Christopher. "She's always been in love with the idea of fairytales."

Ah, Hermione thought. Her dad didn't believe her. It didn't surprise her, really, because when Professor McGonagall had come to their house explaining about witches and wizards, he'd riddled it off as a myth then, too. Of course it wouldn't be much different a second time. Somehow, for Hermione, this made it slightly easier.

"Right," she said, "but this isn't a fairytale."

He just rolled his eyes.

"Monica! Hermione Granger is here!"

A quite loud gasp was heard from the next room over and a woman with her black hair tied back in a bun and dark chocolatey skin glided to the sitting room. "Hermione Granger? Oh, dear, come in, come in! Christopher, fetch the food!" Genevieve Granger grasped Hermione's shoulders and led her to the dining room where a table was set. She couldn't help but notice that one of the spots seemed unused and empty. It didn't take a blind person to see that it was her spot.

"Do you like tea, Hermione? Maybe wine? Some water? Anything else to drink?"

"Just some water, please." Hermione said, smiling. Her mother was just the same caring person as before. Out of the corner of her eye, Christopher gave a dirty look.

"Mum! Dad! I'm home!" Someone shouted. A quiet sob accidentally crossed Hermione's lips when she recognised it as her sister. "Is that Hermione Granger here?"

"Yes, she's in the dining room. Put your bag down, Jackie and don't look so slouched!"

"I'm never slouched, Mum, you know that."

"Just go and keep Hermione company, darling; I'm busy!"

"Yes, Mum," was muttered and then footsteps padded themselves down the hallway. A beautiful woman Hermione knew to be twenty-seven-year-old Freya peeked herself from behind the door. Her scrutinising brown eyes studied Hermione and when she decided she wasn't dangerous, Freya stepped all the way in. Box braids tumbled down her back, the first noticeable change on her person. Secondly, her ears were pierced, something she had always been afraid to do. Her skin was so much darker than usual, Australia's climate being infinitely warmer than London.

"Oh, hi, Frey-Jackie." Hermione greeted, wincing at her slip up but thankful Freya didn't seem to notice. She didn't know how much Genevieve had told her.

Freya sat down next to her. "Hello . . . Hermione."

A few moments of awkward silence.

"So . . . Mum tells me you're my sister?"

"Er, yeah, I'll wait until your mum and dad get here before I say anything so I don't have to repeat."

"They're your mum and dad, too, Hermione."

She worried her bottom lip. "I know . . . I just don't want to immediately act as your sister. I don't want it to be weird for you."

"No, it's alright." Freya grinned. "I already feel like I've known you forever even though it's only been a few minutes. I take it we were close?"

"Yes." Hermione nodded vigorously. "Very."

Now her sister placed an elbow on each knee, leaning her face on her hands. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

A blush crept itself up to Hermione's cheeks. "Ah, no. I haven't had the . . . _pleasure_."

"You don't like the idea of heartbreak," said Freya as she nodded in understanding. "I don't either."

"I mean-I've sort of had to deal with a lot of that, being in a war and all . . . and I don't want to go through with it again."

"I get it. You don't want to lose anyone else you care about."

Shifting in her seat, she responded. "Yes, pretty much."

Freya looked as if she were about to say more when Genevieve walked in. "I hope you girls are getting along well," she said.

"Yes, I already feel like I know her so well." She threw a smile and a wink at Hermione. And when Christopher walked in, she added, "It almost feels as if she's my _sister_."

Genevieve's whole face brightened up. "Good, that's really good!"

"So, _Hermione,_ " Christopher started when they were all settled and eating. "tell us about this _Wizarding World._ "

Hermione cleared her throat as she swallowed a bit of food. _Here goes,_ she thought. "Well, witches and wizards . . . we possess a sort of magical power that is channeled through wands-"

"Do you have yours here?" He interrupted.

"Yes-"

"Can I see it?" Freya's eyes danced with anticipation.

"I think maybe I should wait-"

"Come _on,_ Hermione. You're a witch, that's so cool!"

Stifling a sigh, she pulled the stick of wood out of her bag and placed it into Freya's hands. "Just be careful. Don't break it. I've had it since I was eleven." And then she continued. "Our power is channeled through wands but there are other magical races like goblins and giants and vampires. Giants and vampires are not usually friendly but goblins run the Wizarding bank, Gringotts.

"There are purebloods, people with only magical blood, half-bloods, people with one to three quarters muggle blood and the rest wizard blood, and muggleborns, people with entirely muggle ancestry. I'm a muggleborn and we are very prejudiced against from many pureblood witches and wizards. We have to learn magic though, and, when we're eleven, we can go to a magical school to learn how to control our powers before they get out of hand or anything. We learned Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, History of Magic, and many more. It's absolutely amazing, except that magic can be used in bad ways." Christopher suddenly glared at the offending object in Freya's hands.

"An awful man, Tom Marvolo Riddle, or, as he called himself, Lord Voldemort, discriminated against muggles or anyone with muggle blood, even though he was a half-blood himself. His followers were strictly pureblood and called Death-Eaters and they would slaughter people based off their parents. It was horrific. A boy named Harry Potter, my best friend, was attempted to be killed by Voldemort but failed, earning the title of The-Boy-Who-Lived. Voldemort tried, for seven years, to kill him, until just two year ago. I was eighteen, and there was a dreadful war going on. The light was just starting to fight back. I was captured eventually and tortured. It was the worst experience of my life.

"Earlier that year, I changed all of your memories of me using a Confundus charm and sent you here so that you would stay safe during the fight for our lives. I didn't want you missing me if I died and I didn't want to witness your deaths because I knew it would be my fault.

"The reason I'm here now is because Lord Voldemort was killed by Harry Potter. The Wizarding World is safe. You're safe, I'm safe, and I need my family now more than ever."

Genevieve had tears streaming down her face once Hermione had finished, although she had no idea why. It hadn't been awfully dramatic. In fact, her voice was very monotonous and ridden with loss.

"Oh, Hermione," the woman said. "I'm so sorry."

Freya couldn't speak.

Christopher looked away.

"Well," Hermione said, "I believe I've told you enough to recover your memories without further complications." A hand was held out to Freya. "My wand, please." The magic coursed through her veins as she curled her fingers around her wand and she pointed it at the family of three. " _Harmonia nectere passus._ "

They all suddenly blinked. They stared at her with wide, tear-filled eyes.

And then only when six arms were wrapped around her, she allowed herself to cry.


End file.
